


The Grow Room

by NekoMida



Category: Black Cat (Comics), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: F/M, Feral Girl Pollen, Mundane AU Pollen: Victim Has Delusion Of Working In A Flowershop‚ Forces Flowers On New Victims, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Serial Killers, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoMida/pseuds/NekoMida
Summary: Peter Maximoff runs a floral shop of the most curious variety, where occasionally a customer goes to find flowers of a certain nature at their disposal.





	The Grow Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).

He was bored of it all. The flower shop, the flowers, the piles of bodies he’d put into fertilizer, they were all boring. Indeed, he needed another outlet, something that was interesting. Or someone, perhaps. After all, he needed to sell the flowers to someone. And they’d choose so wisely for him, the most beautiful clients who returned time and time again for his flowers until one day they just...stopped. It was a wonderful process.

The smell of lilies hung in the air, light and fragrant to entice any stray butterfly or bee that would find itself in the shop. It just so happened that a butterfly waltzed right in, black clothing form-fitting and yet tasteful. Her silver hair gleamed in the sun-streaked windows, cascades from Peter’s mister making rainbows around her form. She was absolutely perfect, he had to have her in his collection. And the plants thought so too, almost curling towards her with repose. The blooms seemed to be brighter than usual; they’d found what they wanted.

Only the most precious flowers were allowed in his garden.

“Good afternoon, can I help you find something in particular?” Peter put on his best smile, setting the mister aside on one of the numerous countertops. “I carry a variety of flowers, and can make you several arrangements if needed.” 

“Just a few simple flowers is all. Perhaps something you could suggest?” She was graceful as she moved, lithe as a cat. It made his heart explode.

“Ah, I think so. Can’t go wrong with something like this.” Peter gestured to the display of exotic orchids in the window, flowers delicate for only a few days before they would wilt. “Special bred for maximum perfume and color. Take a sniff, if you’d like.” These orchids were special, the pollen acting as a potent sexual enhancer. It was how he chose his victims, based on the flowers they would choose.

She shook her head, and turned her eyes to a smattering of bright red lilies on the wall, blooms open and inviting. Other colors were splashed in between; tiger lilies with spots, the palest of pinks, pure white, and even a few more rare of the black variety. Those would make her into something entirely different; Peter hadn’t tried any of the lily pollen on a victim yet. Peonies, chrysanthemums, every flower in the shop had a use. But lilies were something entirely different. Few people even looked at them.

And all he could do was watch as her body bent down and deeply inhaled the perfume of the lilies, hand cupping the petals so delicately.

Peter watched, waiting as the woman’s eyes opened, an almost feral gleam to them. They were intensely green, and he swallowed, thinking that perhaps he’d made a mistake in showing her those particular flowers. Her finger pushed on his chest, and she smiled, licking her lips as she looked into his warm brown eyes. “I think that those might be the best ones. They suit my needs just fine.”

Peter felt aroused in a way that he never had before--all of his other flowers were so compliant, so meek, but this woman was something else entirely. She was up in his face, backing him against the counter as her nails grew sharper, pawing at him with a grin on her face. 

“L-let me bag those up for you.” He felt a weakness, playing to this woman’s whims as her emerald green eyes stared him down, watched him hungrily as he moved to bag up a few of the selected flowers for her. Her hand grabbed his smock, and ruby red lips pressed to his own as the flowers fell to the floor in a heap.

Peter let his own hands tangle in her hair, gasping as he came up for breath from her aggressive kisses. There was little time to think as she shoved him to the back table, tearing his pants down painfully. He was already half-hard just from the excitement of having another flower to put in his own garden, but he gulped as lips wrapped around his cock, a hand shoving him to the table so he was unable to get up or struggle much.

Warmth enveloped him and tears stung his eyes at the thought that this was entirely the wrong scenario but that it felt so good otherwise. Her tongue was quick, swiping along the length and sucking at all the right places until his legs shook and he was gasping for breath, clenching the edges of the table as he was brought to the brink of orgasm. But she stopped, watching his chest rise in heaving breaths as he looked up at her weakly.

“These aren’t the only flowers you have. Show me your best, and I’ll consider letting you have your pleasure.” She was almost purring at him, teeth bared ever so slightly. His best flowers were in the cooler, a place he didn’t take anyone into, but Peter nodded, thinking that he might actually get his trophy after all. He’d still get a new flower for the most precious garden he had, the most delicate plants in the entire store and his secret indulgence.

His pants were haphazardly pulled up, barely buttoned as he showed her to the back room where the coolers were, dirt splotched across the floor in small piles, along with wood chips and fertilizer. Odd stains were on the tables, several chunks missing from cutting stems and arrangements. The freezers were chilled, a low forty degrees, but tolerable enough for short periods of time. It was in the back that his secret laid, potted flowers too delicate for the sunlight stored away.

And when she saw them, there was no disgust in her eyes, only wonder as she touched the petals, stroked their lengths and admired the colors there. Blues, greens, purples, and sometimes red and yellows blossoming from pots, still standing tall. A few of them were bare bones now, only the skeletons remaining of once proud blossoms. He smiled as she touched them here and there, admiring the work he’d gone into preserving them just the way they were. Her eyes flashed at him as she stood up, and Peter grinned, the shears to the side of the display just inches from his hand. All it would take would be a few snips and he’d have his souvenir, the thing he kept from every one of the delicate plants he took cuttings from, a lock of their hair.

“You know my secret.” The woman smiled at him, looking very much like she would devour him whole. “Now, I can’t let you leave. But you’ll be the most interesting bloom in my garden, you’re so beautiful.” He reached out to take a lock of her hair between his fingers, and she grabbed his arm, shoving him to the table.

“Who says anything about becoming a flower for you? I could just be a creeping vine, ready to poison your garden. Why not leave me as I am, and enjoy me that way?” Her fingers were working his pants loose again, yanking them to the floor and discarding the leather jacket she wore. “Or I could be your most useful bee, bring you new flowers for this little garden you have.”

Her words intrigued him, and carefully, Peter took her face in his hands. Somewhere inside of him, it was right; the flowers had spoken elsewhere. She was his flower to keep, to lure in strays and pollinate his shop with even more grandeur. More bursts of color to fill the lonely shelves within the cooler, an idea that he relished the thought of. Lips pressed to his and the world was full of color once again.

“Well, then, little bee, share with me your honey.” He broke the kiss just briefly, hands working on her own pants and stripping them to the knees. Black lacy underwear, risque and delectable, Peter’s mouth watering at the sight of them. He all but pushed her to the table, using the shears to slice through her jeans and underwear. It didn’t matter; he would send her off with something else. But the burn inside was so strong that the flowers had to be giving off their pollen; the urge never hit him this strongly until it was time to cultivate a new find.

He was pushed inside her by her boots pushing his ass firmly, her nails digging into his skin and hair, yanking at him where she wanted him. Peter’s fingers were sunk into her hips, leaving little petal-like bruises sprinkled on the skin from the pressure. Slaps of flesh as she begged for harder, deeper, faster, until Peter found himself spilling over into her, panting. But he wanted more, and so did she as he found himself on the floor.

Sweat droplets froze to his face as she mounted him, hands clawing at his chest. It was hurried, forceful, and he had to admit, this was the best choice the flowers had picked for him yet. His hands were pinned above his head as she rode him, drawing him to the brink and then making him wait to bring him back to the brink once again. Breathing was difficult in the thin air, and Peter felt his lungs freezing with exertion, but he wasn’t about to let himself go without her as well.

It came crashing down around him, her screams echoing around them both as she quivered, his hands grasping hers before peeling himself off the floor, her body still linked to his. “What do they call you...my little bee?” He had to know, even if she’d sting him again and again. It would be so wonderful to have a flower just as cannibalistic as he was, finding the best of the best and putting them into their collection.

“Felicia.” She gasped between pants of cold air, warmth seeping from her body as he sat her on the wooden table, hands squeezing her ass as he pushed into her again. “My name’s Felicia.”

That satiated him, and he thrust into her, face planted on her shoulder, teeth scraping at the delicate skin on her neck. “Peter.” A mere huff of it as he grunted, digging his nails into the softness of her, feeling her muscles cord with tension as his legs shook again. Ice crystals were forming on their bodies, and he pressed his lips to hers over and over again, tasting what she had to offer.

Hours later, when they were spent and out of the cold room, Peter let her hair fall between his fingers with silken ease. He’d never met anyone else that the flowers talked to like him. Someone who was satiated by collection others. For Felicia, it was locks of hair, precious jewels in her box. At the back of his head, there was a bit shorter than the rest, able to be hidden. She’d cut it off herself, proud of the moment when he said he’d keep her. A lock of her hair was braided and tied around his wrist, a symbol of devotion from her.

~~~~

Downstairs, in the rest of the building that Peter called home, broken pots were scattered about, the freezer keeping its secret garden hidden from the rest of the world. There wasn’t a new transplant today, but some of the petals had fallen from the other flowers from the vigorous sex that had occurred. Fingers and several bones lay scattered about the floor, bruised hands blue with the chill open-palmed towards the sky that they’d never see again.

The flower shop that Peter kept as a front used to be a florist. Now, the windows were dusty, and there was an odd smell when someone walked into the shop, reminiscent of decay. Several of the flowers appeared wilted, but they were in varied containers--buckets, vases, anything else Peter could find that would hold flowers. A few plants were potted still, scattered about the cut flowers, leeching pollen in small bursts into the air.

Nobody knew what they were. No floriculture book contained these plants, and the only other place they were found was on the black market. The main plant had vines across the ceiling, hidden in the rafters, and dusted new customers with pollen that would make them lose their inhibitions. Peter had been around it so long that it required new victims for him to be dusted with pollen, to crave what he could never have--a release from the urges so desperate to escape his mind and soul.


End file.
